


The Words of his Demise

by fraufi666



Category: Political RPF - Australian 20th-21st c., Print Journalism RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Authority Figures, Blackmail, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, News Media, Nudity, Politics, Rivalry, Romance, Sex Tapes, Sexual Content, Sort Of, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraufi666/pseuds/fraufi666
Summary: Malcolm Turnbull receives a phone call from his former nemesis, who asks him to assist in taking down a powerful media mogul. With reluctance, as well as some unresolved feelings from several years ago, Turnbull decides to take the challenge. Will they succeed? Or will it backfire horribly?
Relationships: Kevin Rudd/Malcolm Turnbull, Tony Abbott/Malcolm Turnbull
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is an AU. Although I have used real people and political figures this is entirely a work of fiction. All romantic encounters, events and insinuations are from my imagination. I mean no disrespect to any of the people depicted. I am also in no way politically biased.

Even though the bed was comfortable, Turnbull could not sleep. Instinctively, he turned to the bedside table, picking up his phone and going straight to Twitter, hoping to find something that would be of interest. He was about to give up and try to go back to sleep, when he spotted a face he had not seen in a while.

Kevin Rudd, former Prime Minister and foe had shared a video of himself commentating on the Chinese government’s actions. Turnbull did not care for the content of the video, but was strangely reassured to see the calm, stoic expression of this ex-Prime Minister, now with a beard. Old age had treated him well, for his peachy skin appeared so smooth with barely any blemish or wrinkle. His hair, which had always been fair, appeared practically white. The beard was just as white as the hair on his head: giving him a dignified, stately look. He almost looked a bit like Colonel Sanders, only better and the square glasses he always wore gave him a dignified air. Turnbull felt his heart race as he quickly responded to the video. He had to get in first.

_The white beard looks great Kevin.*_

Turnbull waited for a response. Nothing. He sighed. Of course he would not respond to him: their relationship had been rocky, at best. All those years ago when Rudd was Prime Minister and himself as Opposition Leader had been a dreadful time. It was the first time in his life where he had strongly considered quitting politics, once and for all. But it did not have much to do with Rudd being horrible. No. He could not think of any words to describe him. Rudd was impossible. The egoism, the posh, dignified accent, the slightly pudgy yet handsome features… Turnbull tried not to think about it. His feelings for this man had always been so conflicted. There were times when they would be sitting together and Rudd would only have eyes for him, only to then speak down to him and treat him like he were less than an insect.

Back in 2012, Turnbull remembered sitting near Rudd during the show Q&A. They were sitting so close, yet so far as Alan Jones sat in between them. A person in the audience had asked if the two of them would ever join forces together as a party. Turnbull was quick to laugh it off: “A political party with Kevin? Never!”* But in his heart, as he watched Rudd laugh along with him, he knew that he hadn’t been entirely honest. He did wonder, more times than he could count about how things would be if the two were on the same team. Party lines had often made things complicated, yet he somehow had a way with pretty much anyone he desired. But Rudd was always so cold, so impersonal. Every time he thought they were getting close, Rudd would shatter all hope. Even though he hated the Labor Party with every inch of his being, he wished that he could be respected, even just a little bit, by its leader.

Thinking it was not to be, Turnbull was just about to roll over and go to sleep when his phone flashed. Quickly, he sat up, taking the phone and clicking on the notification. Since his reflection on past events, Rudd had sent him a personal message.

_Thanks._

Immediately, Turnbull responded.

_You’re welcome, Kev. xxx_

Only after he pressed the enter button, did he realise his mistake. He knew that Rudd had no feelings for him, for when he did try to flirt with him, he was rebuffed one too many times. Now the former Labor leader would be laughing at his hopelessness.

Turnbull felt shame, but there was no way he could take the message back now. Rudd would have already seen it for sure. All he could do now, was go to sleep. If he were asleep, perhaps this entire catastrophe could have been averted.

Suddenly, his phone began to hum.

Turnbull picked up the phone, quickly walking into the other room so not to wake up Lucy. “Hello?” He asked in confusion. He did not recognise the number.

“Malcolm, it’s me.”

He could hear his heart beating furiously in his ears as he recognised that elegant tone. Even though it was just a casual phone call, Rudd always managed to sound so formal.

“Ah! Kev! So good to hear from you.” Turnbull chuckled nervously, as if he had not expected any sort of response from him, “What have you been up to?”

“Let’s cut the chit-chat. I need your help.” The former Labor leader said urgently. “Are you alone?”

Turnbull looked around quickly, even though he knew nobody else was up and about. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

“I remember you were never really a fan of Rupert Murdoch, especially since how his press treated you when you were Prime Minister. I want you to help me take him down.”

“What?!” Turnbull explained, laughing.

“Apologies.” Rudd responded, slightly offended, “If this is so funny, I won’t inconvenience you any longer-”

“No! Don’t hang up!” Turnbull begged, sensing the other’s impatience, “It’s just that…it’s been years since we last spoke. Look, I don’t approve of Murdoch either…but he is so powerful and wealthy. Where do we start?”

“Meet me tomorrow at Ming’s Dumplings, in the CBD. Let’s say four. Then we will plan.”

“Of course.” Turnbull replied, “But before you go…can you please tell me why you have asked me for help?”

“You know why, Malcolm. Goodbye.”

The line went dead.

Turnbull stared at his phone in disbelief, as if still trying to process whether the phone conversation had really happened. There was no way in hell he was going to do something so risky, especially something so prone to failure. He had enough failures in his life in politics, hence why he started working in finance again. He yearned for a safer life, one that did not involve scandal, conspiracy and heartbreak. But a feeling deep inside him tugged at his heartstrings. He _had_ to see him again. The fact that Rudd had called him for help was perhaps proof that maybe he did respect him for something after all. No matter how ridiculous, let alone impossible this task was, he had to do it.

He was going to take down Rupert Murdoch.


	2. Chapter 2

He had arrived early at Ming’s Dumplings, making sure to sit in the spot furthest away from people. For a split second, he felt proud that he had arrived earlier than Rudd had intended, but noticed at the corner of his eye Rudd sitting at the opposite table. He gave a nod to Turnbull and he rose from his seat, going over to sit down near him.

“So what’s all this about, Kev?”

Rudd leaned in close, his voice quiet, “The Murdoch press have been sharing a lot of misinformation about several issues. But it seems that they are growing in numbers day by day. The media is supposed to be unbiased, as you are aware. But as the far right continue to permeate mainstream media, I am less sure. We need to find a way to stop him.”

“But how?” Turnbull asked in confusion, “I understand that you want to stop him: I do too. But there’s only two of us, while there are many of him: did you know that News Corp Australia owns about one hundred and forty-two daily, Sunday, weekly, bi-weekly and tri-weekly publications?”

“Yes, I am well aware of that.” Rudd responded with a slight tone of irritation. “This is why we need to stop him. I understand you have always been loyal to the Liberal Party. If you can utilise your connections there, particularly with the conservative faction, we will find a way to get to Murdoch.”

Turnbull laughed, “I can’t do that. The party hate me now. I’m sure Scotty from Marketing wouldn’t be pleased if I just randomly asked him for help to take down Murdoch.”

“No, that’s not what I mean…” Rudd said, looking somewhat frustrated, shaking his head, “You need to utilise the connections of those you know and care about. Forget the crowd that ousted you.”

The smile of the older man faded as he contemplated the enormity of the task he was asked to do. “I…I don’t have anyone.” He replied sadly.

“That’s not true.” Rudd replied, frowning, “You can’t have deserted the _whole_ party. What about Cormann? Or Abbott?”

“They wouldn’t want a bar of me.” Turnbull admitted. Particularly Abbott. The grudge between the two of them had lasted for decades.

He felt a smooth hand clasp his own and looked up in surprise to see Rudd was holding his hand in support.

“I know the task sounds difficult, Malcolm…but I believe in you.” He squeezed his hand tightly and Turnbull felt himself perspire at the contact, “Please…” Rudd begged, his solemn eyes gazing into the former Liberal leader’s orbs, “There is no one else I know who can be capable of such an enormous feat.”

Turnbull felt his ears burn as he heard such praise from that posh voice. In all the years he had known Rudd, he had never received such a kind compliment. He could not believe his ears.

“But Kevin…you’ve never liked me.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” Rudd responded, letting go of his hand. Turnbull felt slightly disappointed as he did so. “I have always regarded you to be so much more than just an Opposition Leader. Did you believe I wanted Tony as my nemesis? You and I…we’re so much more alike than you think. I may not vote for you, but as an individual you have always been the one person I can count on. Please don’t make me think that going to Sydney was all a mistake.”

“Of course not.” Turnbull said quickly. He did not want to let him down, now that he knew how much Rudd had actually respected him. “I’ll make some calls and see what I can do.”

The two men barely exchanged a word between one another as they ate the dumplings. Although it was so easy for him to be talkative, Turnbull was more pensive. Occasionally, he would glance at the former Labor leader, watching him as he spoke with the most fluent Mandarin to the waitress.

“I’ve been brushing up on my Mandarin too.” Turnbull responded with a smile, hoping to impress the other. “Hěn hǎo!”

Rudd narrowed his eyes, but then burst into a laugh. “Dàtóu!” He exclaimed, slapping Turnbull on the shoulder.  
  
“Xièxiè!” Turnbull responded, thinking that Rudd had complimented him. “I am also impressed with my progress. Mandarin is really quite easy thanks to Duolingo.”  
  
Rudd continued to laugh, the redness in his face making his beard stand out all the more, “Ah, of course you have. Now, Malcolm I have some business to do in my hotel room. You will take care of everything, won’t you?”  
  
“Of course.” Turnbull responded with certainty. But as he watched the other get up from his chair and walk over to the door, only then did he realise what Rudd had _really_ meant.  
  
“Your bill, sir.” The waitress said, handing the bill over to Turnbull. It was a huge amount, but Turnbull paid for it anyway. Nothing was too expensive for him, so long as he got to spend more time with Rudd. 


	3. Chapter 3

After he had left the restaurant, he rang up Abbott right away. It was a long time before someone on the other end of the line had finally picked up.

“Malcolm?”

“Tony, hi. I know this is short notice, but could we meet up tonight? Some of my friends from Oxford have decided to have dinner together. It would be wonderful if you could can join us.”

There was silence, and for a split second Turnbull thought the conservative had hung up, but he was just thinking over what was being said.

“Tony?”

“Sorry Malcolm, but I never received an invitation. I have to get ready for my trip to Britain.”

“That’s why I’m ringing you, Tones.” Turnbull responded with a chuckle. “It’s been such a long time since we’ve last spoke.”

“Malcolm, I really have to pack. I don’t have the time.”

“Oh Tones, it’s just for the evening. Come for at least the first hour, make an appearance and then go. You’re not still upset over what happened all those years ago, are you? The boys have well and truly grown up, and they’re certainly not from that dreadful society we once were in.”

“Mal-“

“Just for old time’s sake. It would be ideal considering you are just about to go to Britain. You can impress Boris with your tales from Oxford; I think he’d be pleased.” Turnbull persisted. He needed his old rival to go ahead with his plan somehow. Failing this plan would only deem him incapable in the eyes of Rudd, and he could not afford to have his disapproval. “Look, Tones. I’m sorry for how things went during the 2015 Leadership Election. I’m sure you would have done the same in my position. Just please, let us move on from it, and keep the past in the past.”

“There’s more to it than that.” Abbott explained grimly, his voice hinting a sadness that appeared buried for so long.

“So please, tell me over dinner tonight. You will have my complete, undivided attention.”

“Okay, but no promises.” Abbott replied firmly.

Somehow, the words had done the trick. In three hours’ time, Turnbull saw the former Liberal Prime Minister walking sheepishly through the restaurant he had booked a few minutes beforehand. Being so powerful had allowed him to get the reservation he wanted, despite others booking beforehand. Abbott caught sight of him and briskly walked towards him, craning his neck to see any familiar faces.

“Where are the others?” Abbott asked, sitting down at the table.

“They’ll be here soon. Probably running late. The Sydney rail network really needs an upgrade. How are you?”

Abbott looked at Turnbull with some suspicion, “What is the whole purpose of this meeting, Malcolm?”

Turnbull sighed. The former Prime Minister was nowhere near as dim as he thought. He had to be honest.

“Okay, you got me. I just wanted to see you.”

“Why?” Abbott asked, suddenly looking tense. He looked around to make sure nobody else was in earshot and lowered his voice, “This is too little, too late. You destroyed the Liberal Party, you-”

“Tones, you know there is more to it than that. You even said so yourself.” Turnbull interrupted. He flashed his trademark grin at the conservative, knowing that this same smile had worked on many others before, “So tell me.”

“Let’s eat first.” Abbott said, still gazing around wearily in fear of being caught.

“Yes, let’s do that.” Turnbull responded, picking up a menu, “What’s your poison?”

“Just a beer would be fine for me.” Abbott responded.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” Turnbull remarked, raising a hand to get the waiter’s attention. “I’ve always liked how much of a real Aussie bloke you are. Are you still surfing, by the way?”

“Nah, no time for that anymore.” Abbott answered, “As you know.”

“Ah yes, Britain.” Turnbull smiled gently before the waiter came to take their order. He only continued to speak after the waiter had left. “I know we’ve never seen eye to eye with each other ideologically, but I’ve always known you to be best with international affairs.”

“Thanks Malcolm.” Abbott responded, taken slightly aback by the compliment. There were a few beads of sweat above his thin lip. Turnbull knew that whatever he was saying was having some kind of effect. Once the drinks had arrived, Abbott downed the beer instantly. Turnbull watched on, impressed. He made sure to order him another.

The hours had flown by quickly and Abbott was beginning to slur his words and laugh at almost any joke that Turnbull had made, even jokes that were made at his expense. But the important thing was at least he was becoming more comfortable about talking with him.

“Ah, Mal…” Abbott slurred, taking another sip of the beer, “Where did we go wrong? The Libs were doing so well and you were Mr Broadband.”

“The one and only.” Turnbull grinned. There was barely anyone left in the restaurant now, “Tell me, what you meant when you said there was more to it?”

“You know…” Abbott sighed, “Our time at Oxford. I thought, I thought we had something…” He frowned as he tried to remember what he was trying to say. The alcohol was having more of an effect on him than he wanted, “But it’s too late now.”

There was a slight pang of guilt but it passed as quickly as it came. Turnbull remembered how much he had led him on, only to break his heart. And now, he was going to do it all over again. Such was politics.

“You know how I feel about you, Tones. My feelings for you haven’t changed, even after I had met Lucy. But I had to break it off, I know it was wrong, but things were so different back then. I couldn’t afford to let either of us get into trouble.”

“You’re lying.” Abbott grumbled, turning away from the former politician.

“I’m not, Tony.” Turnbull responded in a tone of seriousness. He tried to look into the other’s eyes, but he was facing the wall.

Now, he had to act quickly, or he would lose the opportunity to prove himself to Rudd. He got up from the table. “This place is closing up soon. Why don’t we go for a walk together along the dock?”

Abbott stood up, his eyes downcast. There was slight hesitation, but he did not want to leave his former lover just yet, “Alright. Let’s go.”  
  
The two had left the restaurant and walked along the waterfront. It was quite a pleasant night. The sky was clear and a few stars were beginning to appear. Turnbull walked closely behind the other man, who was still slightly tipsy from a few too many beers. Abbott wobbled, almost falling over so Turnbull linked his arm with his, keeping him balanced.

“I don’t get you.” Abbott said in some disgust, “I gave you my heart, I-I gave you everything! You were the suppository of wisdom* and yet y-you left me.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Tones. You know I couldn’t let things go on the way they were. Neither of us would have been Prime Minister if I didn’t end things. It was for the best.”

Abbott pulled away from him, “I don’t care anymore. Rupert cares about me more than you ever did! He would never betray me like the way you have.”

Upon hearing that name, Turnbull’s attention was seized, “Murdoch?” He edged towards him, his eyes watchful as if a predator about to corner their prey, “I didn’t know you and Rupert were on _such_ good terms.”

“Ah-ah-“ Abbott stuttered, horrified that he managed to let that piece of vital information slip. He had talked himself into a corner, and now was completely tongue-tied.

“That’s okay, Tones.” Turnbull said gently, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I always knew you were very important to him. I just never realised the extent of your loyalty.” He leaned in towards him, causing Abbott to sweat all the more, his smile radiating in the gloom. His hand swept against the side of the conservative’s face. “I admit, I am a little jealous, but I am happy for you. Congratulations.”

In a split second, he kissed the thin lips of his nemesis, causing Abbott to shiver.

“M-Malcolm, I didn’t know you still thought about me in that way.” Abbott admitted modestly.

“Oh Tones. What can I do to make you believe me?” The former Communications Minister asked, planting another kiss on his mouth. Abbott crumbled instantly, grabbing hold of the other man’s arms tightly as they continued to kiss. Turnbull felt some revulsion from that beer-tasting breath, but forced himself to go along. He was so close to getting Rudd’s approval, he could not stop now. Abbott clumsily attempted to kiss his neck, but instead ended up kissing his shoulder. Turnbull pulled away, still keeping his arms around him.

“I think it would be best if we went somewhere private. Don’t you?” Turnbull suggested.

Abbott did not argue with him. These moments were what he had always craved for years, and now he had the chance to truly savour them.

The two went back to Abbott’s residence. Margie was not home, giving the two the privacy they needed. Turnbull wasted no time at all, and in the next few minutes their clothes were on the floor and they were in each other’s arms. Abbott sloppily tried to kiss Turnbull, who merely chuckled, before taking him by the arm and leading him to the bed.

It was like trying to teach a slow dog how to do a simple trick. Abbott was completely hopeless, lying in the bed while the other man sought to pleasure him. He lay beside him, sweeping a hand over the former politician’s tanned, athletic physique.

“You’ve always had such a good body, Tones.” Turnbull said, hoping that the flattery would get him to trust him more.

“It’s for you.” Abbott murmured, gazing into his eyes “Everything is for you.”

Turnbull continued to move his hand lower, “But I don’t _want_ anything for me.” He lied, “I want to do something for you. Tell me, what did Rupert do to make you want him?” Gently, he traced his fingertips against his shaft, causing the other to shudder, “Tony...tell me?”

“Keep going.” Abbott begged.

The former communications minister continued to fondle him whilst he leaned in to kiss Abbott passionately. Turnbull found it so laborious. While there was some enjoyment in having so much power over him, he could not stop thinking about Rudd. As he thought of the impassive face of the former Labor politician with the platinum beard, he felt himself harden. Turnbull began to kiss Abbott more forcefully, his hand working him even faster. How much he would have loved to have been pleasuring Rudd right this very minute. He would gladly do anything that man requested.

“M-Malcolm…” Abbott gasped in between kisses. “I think I’m going to-“

Turnbull ignored his warning, until Abbott finally reached his climax. Exhausted from all that activity, Abbott drifted off to sleep.

Now was his chance and he had to act fast. Turnbull put a blanket over him before he hastily put his clothes back on. He went straight into the study, opening up every drawer in sight, searching for anything that would have some connection to the affair with Murdoch. It was like finding a needle in a haystack: whatever traces of the affair Abbott had with this media mogul seemed practically nonexistent. Turnbull was about to give up until he decided to check under the bed of the spare room. From past experience, he knew that people often kept things they did not want to be found under there. That was how he discovered his son had left the Republican Club at university, when he spotted a t-shirt for the Young Monarchists.

He tried to forget that disturbing thought as he got down on his knees, lying down sideways to see what he could find under the bed. He groped his way through the dark crevice before his hand touched something hard and square. He reached in and pulled it out.

It was a VHS tape. Turnbull chuckled to himself. He knew that Abbott was old-fashioned, but it surprised him that this extended to the way he had kept his data. He turned the tape on its side to look for a label. On it, in messy letters it read: _A + R – 2016_

Even though the letters and date did not give much away, Turnbull knew right away that the contents of the tape had to be incriminating. He quickly placed it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Turnbull also discovered a leather bound address book, complete with the details of Murdoch’s residence and photographed the necessary page. Without much ado, he left the residence. He had to get home and see if this tape confirmed his suspicions.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Turnbull had met up with Rudd in his hotel room. After a sleepless night, the former Prime Minister had managed to convert the VHS into a video file which he then placed onto his iPad. He handed the iPad to Rudd himself, smiling.

Rudd straightened his glasses as he pressed play for the video. He gasped as he spotted the conservative wrapped up in a passionate embrace with the media mogul. Turnbull’s grin only widened. It was satisfying seeing the former Labor leader look so affected by something.

“This is fantastic, Malcolm.” Rudd said in astonishment. “However did you manage to find this?”

“It was just in his room.” Turnbull responded as a matter of fact. “Didn’t take me very long.”

“I’m impressed.” Rudd admitted, “This is just the thing we can use to take him down.”

Turnbull’s grin faded. He stood up, before walking over to look out of the window. “Yeah, about that…”

“What’s wrong?” Rudd asked, sensing the other man’s change in mood.

“I don’t think I can do it.” Turnbull confessed, keeping his eyes on the skyline. He could not face Rudd’s disappointment. It was all too much for him to bear. The fact that they were about to do something so risky that could land both their reputations in jeopardy was enough to make his stomach churn. Since retirement, he was still trying to be relevant. To get embroiled in another scandal would only undo all of that hard work.

“What do you mean?” Rudd continued to press, getting up from his seat. He walked over towards the former Liberal leader. Turnbull felt a hand touch against his shoulder. “I thought we were a _team_ , Malcolm.”

Turnbull tried to pull away, but it was as if he were paralysed. This was the sort of gesture he had always wanted from him.

“I’m sorry, Kevin. But it’s too much. I don’t think we can get away with this.”

Rudd frowned, trying to look into the other man’s eyes, “That doesn’t sound like you to just give up.” He admitted. “I had a lot of faith in you.”

Turnbull closed his eyes. “Then you thought better of me than I did myself.” He sighed. “It’s not worth it anymore.” He could feel the other man step closer towards him. The hand on his shoulder dropped, only to then take hold of his hand. Turnbull kept his eyes closed, as if afraid that if he opened them, the moment would end. He could feel his hand being caressed, brushing against the other man’s beard. He sighed as Rudd planted a kiss on the back of his hand.

He opened his eyes, seeing Rudd watching him expectantly. “I still believe in you, Malcolm.” He said, “More than you can ever know.”

Slowly, he took one of Turnbull’s fingers into his mouth, sucking it momentarily before doing the same to his other fingers. The older man felt his heart race as he imagined what that mouth could do to other parts of his body.

“Kevin…” Turnbull muttered, tracing a hand against the white hairs of his beard. They felt a lot smoother than he had expected, “You’re not still upset with me for what happened in 2016?”

“Let’s not talk about politics.” Rudd responded, kissing Turnbull on the mouth quickly, as if to silence him, “That was a long time ago.”

But the closer they were, the more Turnbull wanted to open up to him. He could feel the words tumbling out of him, the words of his demise. Even though he had always wanted to appear brave and indestructible around Rudd, he was also the only person he could ever be fully vulnerable around.

“I deliberately stopped you from being the UN Secretary General*.” Turnbull disclosed, bitterness from all those years ago still in his voice. Undeterred, Rudd continued to kiss his neck. “I-I know it was wrong, but I’ve always wanted to be like you, Kev. God, I’ve always _admired_ you. And you…you make me feel so-“

“Aroused?” Rudd asked, unbuttoning Turnbull’s shirt so that he could continue kissing down his neck with ease. Turnbull could feel his lips and that soft, white hair caress against his collarbone, “I’ve always known _that_ , Malcolm.”

Rudd continued to plant a trail of kisses down his chest. But at this point, Turnbull was still feeling guilty for his feelings of animosity towards the other.

“Stop.” He said quickly. Rudd paused, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Turnbull fell to his knees, gripping the other man’s thighs and gazed up into his eyes for approval. 

“I just need to prove to you that all I want is your love.”

Quickly, he unzipped Rudd’s trousers, taking his cock into his mouth. The former Labor leader closed his eyes, astounded by the other man’s skill.

“I guess they don’t call you a Smooth Operator for nothing.” Rudd gasped, his voice breathless as Turnbull continued to run his tongue against his member. He placed a hand against the other man’s thinning, grey hair, pushing him closer towards him. “Mmm, you’re a good guy, Malcolm.” He moaned, stroking the other man’s hair as Turnbull intensified his motions. Every word only made his ego grow. “The way you stood up to Trump…Spycatcher…Legalising Same Sex Marriage…Ohhh…” He moaned, struggling to think clearly as pleasure began to overwhelm every inch of his being. “You would have been welcomed into the Labor Party with open arms.”

At that last word, Turnbull ran his tongue few times along his shaft, until finally the other came into his mouth, shuddering as he did so. The former Liberal leader swallowed every drop eagerly, savouring the salty taste of the other.

“And this is why I need you working with me.” Rudd murmured, breathing deeply as he tried to regain his composure. He began to take off his clothes and climbed onto the bed. Turnbull gazed at the portly build before him. He then stripped quickly and joined him, pulling him into his arms. It was like hugging a bear. Never had he felt so comfortable and loved in another person’s arms.

The two exchanged harder, passionate kisses as their bodies mingled together. Rudd began to toy with Turnbull’s erection, watching as the other man’s bluish eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Hěn hǎo, Malcolm.” Rudd purred in approval as the other began to shake and moan to his touch, “Hěn hǎo…”


	5. Chapter 5

After a few hours of intense lovemaking and sleep, the two were energised and ready to take down Murdoch. Turnbull had provided the photograph of the address and apartment code for Murdoch’s penthouse. Although he had been living in the United States for a while, it was by sheer luck that he was staying in Australia this week. The two managed to book a last minute flight to Melbourne.

Two hours later, they were entering the penthouse. The code was still valid, as the door swung open, allowing the two access to the vicinity. They took the lift to the very top, until they were standing only a few inches away from the door. On the other side, was arguably the most influential man in the world.

With force, Rudd knocked the door a couple of times.

The door opened with a slight crack. Murdoch peered at the two of them before quickly opening the door and letting them in. He shut it firmly behind him.

“Kevin Rudd and Malcolm Turnbull.” Murdoch sneered, looking at each one in turn as they walked towards the centre of the room, “I didn’t expect you two to be here, but whatever it is, it must be important. Have a seat.”

The two former politicians remained standing. Murdoch sat down on a chair, not at all put off by the other two men’s reluctance.

“Well? What is it?” He asked, a tinge of impatience in his tone.

“We have fair cause to believe that your journalism is filled with nothing but nonsensical conservative bias.” Rudd explained, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Too bad!” Murdoch chuckled, “It’s free speech, you leftie! Live with it.”

“It’s really going overboard.” Turnbull admitted, stepping forward, “Either tone down your journalism, or we’ll make you.”

Murdoch narrowed his beady eyes as Turnbull spoke.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the failed Liberal Party Prime Minister. I always knew you were too much of a left-winger to really lead the party.”

The words stung, and Turnbull wanted to crawl into a hole and stay in there, but he had to keep fighting. He was doing this all for the man he loved.

“Oh? I may be a failed politician. But I have never failed as a lawyer.” Turnbull explained, taking out his iPad, “In fact, if you ease off the right-wing populism, you might be saved from a lifetime of embarrassment for being a hypocrite.”

The media mogul merely laughed in his face, “Hypocrite? Says the man who sold himself out to the conservative wing of his party! You speak such big words for someone who has nothing to show for it.”

Rudd nudged Turnbull, hoping he would show him the video right away. Turnbull understood instantly and pressed play. He held the iPad up in front of the old man so he would get a good view of it.

Murdoch’s face turned pale as he watched the video, the moans and grunts emanating from the iPad’s speakers.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Murdoch demanded in horror.

“That’s not important.” Rudd explained, taking a step closer to the terrified journalist, “But what’s important is the Fifth Estate. While you journalists think you have the upper hand in controlling the political sphere and displacing us from our jobs, the Fourth Estate is not quite as important as it once was, now that the Internet is gaining more influence. Malcolm here could quite easily send off your video with Tony to Fairfax Media. I’m sure you wouldn’t like that, especially given how chummy you are with your conservative friends.”

“How much do you want?” Murdoch asked, his eyes wide with panic.

Turnbull sat down on the arm of the couch, dangling one leg over the other, “Do you really think us of all people need money?”

“I suppose one can never have too much money.” Rudd reasoned. “Perhaps you can pay each of us six million, along with some favourable news stories about our achievements. A retrospective article about our respective governments, perhaps?”

“I-I worked for this!” Murdoch cried, clenching his fists in anger, “This is my life’s work! Y-you can’t come in here and demand such a high price!”

“Well, I guess I’ll just post the video on Twitter.” Turnbull sighed.

“Don’t you dare!” Murdoch roared. He rose from the chair, attempting to grab the iPad off Turnbull, but the former Prime Minister raised the device above arm’s reach.

Murdoch eventually gave up, collapsing in his chair as he furrowed his brow. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you better not come back, or I’ll make sure to have you both bankrupted when I take you two to court for slander!”

“How can it possibly be slander, if it is true?” Turnbull asked, smiling mockingly.

The media mogul picked up his cheque book, scribbling down an amount on two sheets and thrusting them in front of the two former politicians, “Take these, and get out of my sight.” He demanded. “NOW!”

“You better hope that those stories are published.” Rudd threatened, leaning into Murdoch’s ear, “Or expect Fairfax to see your hypocrisy.”

Rudd snatched the cheques off Murdoch, handing one of them to Turnbull. “Well, it looks like our job here is done, Malcolm. Let’s leave so he has some time to write us glowing retrospectives.”

They could hear a slam of a fist on the table as they left the penthouse.  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Once they had returned to Sydney, Turnbull walked Rudd back to his hotel room. He took hold of Rudd’s sleeve, just as the other was about to unlock the door.

“Kevin…I have to say, we both did a wonderful job with Rupert.” Turnbull said warmly. He gazed into those impassive eyes that once took him in with passion.

“Yes, we did, didn’t we?” Rudd admitted, reaching up to touch Turnbull’s face, “Your help has been more than appreciated.”

Turnbull’s heart was racing as Rudd leaned in, still stroking him on the cheek. Their lips were only inches away, the air hot between them.

“…It’s just such a shame that you stopped me from being UN Secretary General.” Rudd sighed, pulling away. He put a finger to Turnbull’s stunned lips, “Don’t take it personally though, Malcolm. It’s just politics.”

“I don’t understand…” Turnbull gasped in surprise, “What we had-”

“…Was a business transaction.” Rudd finished coldly, “Why, I used you just like you used Abbott for information. You of all people should know how important such transactions are.” He patted Turnbull on the shoulder, the last trace of physical contact he was ever going to give him for a very long time, “Goodnight Malcolm.”

And with that, Rudd opened the door, entered his hotel room before closing the door firmly after him.

It was his words, his careless words spoken in the heat of passion that had led to his demise. Turnbull gazed at the closed door in front of him longingly, knowing that he could never get back what he wanted.

Too many thoughts buzzed around in his head, and he could not handle it anymore. He had no energy to process the fact that he had just been used by the man he both loved and hated. In all his life, he was so used to getting what he wanted, but now someone else had used what was his strength as a weakness against him. All his thoughts faded into a single question.

_Why?_

In the hotel corridor, he collapsed to his knees, a shell of a man.

**Author's Note:**

> *Footnotes for explanations: 
> 
> “The white beard looks great Kevin”: This was based on a real tweet that Turnbull had given Kevin Rudd when he recently took a video showing off his new look. A friend had brought the Tweet to my attention and it only seemed reasonable to play on this. Of course, the private messages shared between them is entirely fictional, I have no idea whether or not Rudd did respond to Turnbull. You can view the Tweet that inspired this story in the link below.
> 
> https://twitter.com/TurnbullMalcolm/status/1294223728516009984 
> 
> “A political party with Kevin? Never!”: This quote was also loosely based from a Q&A episode with both former Prime Ministers. It was nice to see the two bicker playfully in the video, and it made me wonder why I hadn’t really explored the Rudd/Turnbull ship before. You can watch this in the link below if you are interested. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULbzC-_LzM8 
> 
> “You were the suppository of wisdom…”: I was partially inspired by the famous gaffe that Tony Abbott had made when he was Prime Minister. He was supposed to say “depository of wisdom” but sadly, like all of us, made a Freudian slip. Ironically, this comment was directed to Kevin Rudd, yet it resulted in the ridicule of Abbott. You can read all about it in the link below.
> 
> https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/aug/13/tony-abbott-gaffe-world-stage 
> 
> “I deliberately stopped you from being the UN Secretary General.”: Unlike the other references in the story, it was not confirmed for certain that Turnbull did this out of personal spite, yet there has been considerable tension between these two politicians. In this work of fiction, however, it was mostly done out of Turnbull’s own insecurity. For more detail, please consult the link below. 
> 
> https://theconversation.com/turnbull-kills-rudds-un-secretary-general-bid-63261 
> 
> Translation key:
> 
> Hěn hǎo: Very good 
> 
> Dàtóu: Translates from Mandarin as “big head”. This was supposed to be a playful insult at Turnbull’s egoism for pretending to know Mandarin fluently. 
> 
> Xièxiè: Thank you


End file.
